The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet
by Eunike
Summary: Why, contrary to the popular belief, the story of Romeo and Juliet has in fact a happy ending.


if Romeo & Juliet had lived...

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**The Tragedy Of Romeo And Juliet**

And Juliet waited, as usual, hazy eyes fixed on the fading light of the candle, which barely illuminated the cold room. It was midnight, and she was alone in the house, awake only because she had lost her ability to dream so long ago. She still prepared supper – one she herself had had hours ago on that particular evening – for two every night due to an old habit, which sometimes seemed terribly foolish and useless in the light of the day. But in the dead of night, in the wistful candlelight, the virgin within her woke up from her deep sleep, and began to sing her lullabies of beauty, and hope, and the love which he had promised would last forever. Sometimes Juliet would amuse her tender heart by pretending that she heard footsteps from the courtyard, and gazed quickly at the door with all her senses sharpened, but the door always remained closed, and she knew that Romeo would not come home. Not before dawn.

She often found herself thinking of the life she might have lived, had she chosen not to follow Romeo on that faithful night so many years ago. When she had twined her soft hands around his neck, pressed her fair head against his chest, and pled him to take her away from it all – away from her father, away from Paris, away from the Capulets and the Montagues, and of death, and hate, and violence. Far away from Verona, to somewhere she could be free to be with the one she loved with all of her pure, virginal heart. Back then she would have followed him to death, had he ever requested it. And so they had fled, hidden in the darkness of the night.

Their love had been deep and passionate enough to keep them both satisfied for the first few years of their married life. They had not been wealthy, but as long as fair Juliet had her Romeo, neither of them had lacked anything. Romeo had been a fine husband, and he had worked very hard to bring his young wife everything she ever wanted, even though she had often whispered him lovingly that all she needed was him, only him. Juliet had not minded having to do chores, and learning to cook, and darning holes in worn clothes, and chasing rats and mice around the house, and having to wear the humble attire of a common woman because being with him had been all that ever mattered to her. She had adored Romeo. She had adored his hands, his neck, the tips of his fingers, the brush of his lips against her skin, the warmth of his embrace, his kindness, his integrity, his open and passionate heart – absolutely everything that was him, with every single breath she took. And when she had gotten to be with him, to hold him, and when she had felt with every fibre of her being that she was the only woman who got to know everything about him from his darkest secrets to his little quirks, she had learned to love him more and more each night and day they shared.

That love had made Juliet give birth to Romeo's child, once upon a cool October evening some years after they had secretly been wed. Their son had been as beautiful as the sun itself, but the poor little thing was feeble and ill, and he had died before the year was out. Both of them had wept for him truly and freely from the bottoms of their young hearts. They had mourned him first together, then apart, and eventually concealed the memory of him within their souls, privately, splitting the grief they had once shared. Fate would never grant Juliet another child, and when the winter and frost arrived that year, the coldness found its way into their home, into their bed, and into their sorrowful hearts, which slowly and stealthily stopped being one.

Winter had passed, and so had spring, and season after season Juliet had found herself drifting further away from her Romeo. There was an invisible force between them which soon grew stronger than their love. It painted black clouds above Romeo's head, and made Juliet waste away like a rose in the frost, and taught them both to close their hearts and minds. One morning Juliet had woken up and simply stopped talking to him, as he had once stopped being there to hold her when she needed him. And now Romeo had stopped coming home to her. When he did come, he went straight to bed, and when he woke up, he went outside, and she knew painfully well that he would not return until she was fast asleep, unable to reach him even if she tried. And she, too, had learned to dread the moments when she had to look her husband in the eyes and not be able to pretend that she did not know what he had been up to. It was blissfully easy for both of them to shun each other so that neither of them had to face the truth. Because she knew that even though Romeo loved his women - the young, vibrant, and tremendously beautiful ones he needed to love to stay alive just like he needed air to breathe - he was ashamed of himself for failing his Juliet. She knew that he could no longer love her like he had promised he would until the end of his days.

For Juliet was old, old. She was an old woman in a young body, looking back at her life as if it had already ended. Her beauty, which had once been celebrated all over Verona, had began to wither and fade, as though it wanted to leave her because she no longer had any use to it. She no longer pleased him the way she had used to, and the flames of passion had died out within her, too, long ago. They slept their nights together like two tombstones, neither remembering the ardour which used to possess them both every time they had been alone together in that very same bed.

Since then Juliet's soft hands had roughened, her fair complexion had turned grey, and her youthful body had become useless and dry. But Romeo was still handsome and charming as ever. His sincere smile still made young girls blush, and his body was still granted the joys of flesh, which kept him sprightly and lively while she grew old before her time. A part of her hated him for it. She hated him for being so unreachable, so evidently independent of the memory of her innocent love, and ever so beautiful. She hated herself for not being able to love him anymore selflessly and honestly, like a wife should. Very often she wondered why loving him had been so easy when everything else in the world was against it, and so difficult now that they were free to be together.

Sometimes she thought about the child she had lost. Sometimes she found herself thanking the Lord for taking him so soon, before he had his share of any of the sorrows of the world. And when she thought about how he would never have to grow old, or feel the pain of rejection, of inadequacy, or taste the bitter taste of treachery in love – when she remembered how beautiful he had been - a part of her hoped that the world would have come to its end when she still had been fair, and when Romeo had still been hers. If they had died before everything changed, they would have remained forever young, forever beautiful, and forever in love. Like the jewels in the sky.

And so she waited, for nothing in particular. She waited, because there was nothing else left for her to do. She hoped that the light of the candle would not die out before dawn. The song of the lark would set her heart free.

Blessed are the ones who die young, for they shall never know mortality.

- end –

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A/N While I've always liked Romeo and Juliet as a play, I've never understood why it's widely considered as the greatest love story of all times. In the end, it's just a story of two teenagers – a hopeless young romantic (who is head over heels in love with Rosaline in the beginning of the play) a 13-year-old girl – who "fall in love", get married, and hastily kill themselves within days. I just can't help but find it more naïve than romantic. I've always thought that dieing together dramatically is pretty much the best thing that could have ever happened to romantic souls like them. This is my take on what might have happened if they had lived. I originally meant to write a half from Romeo's point of view, but I decided not to as I managed to get everything I wanted to say in Juliet's part. That's why he may sound like the villain, but I never meant to make him sound bad – well, not any worse than Juliet, at the very least. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the story. 


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